


Mountain Trip

by idkhow_you_found_me



Category: Original Work
Genre: Folklore, Gen, POV Second Person, Unrequited Crush, a very brief fragment, polish one to be specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkhow_you_found_me/pseuds/idkhow_you_found_me
Summary: It was whole two years ago and you still can’t forget about it. You often wonder if it isn’t your best friend’s heart that’s calling you there. You often wonder if you don’t want to leave your own heart in the mountains too. You often wonder where exactly it would be. Maybe just at the foothills, as a tribute to Giewont so he won’t forget to wake up when the time comes. Maybe at the top, to serve as a better lure for the future visitors. You wonder a lot, these times.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Mountain Trip

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyoen who was constantly spammed by me about this story, it took a wild turn from the og concept

You’re from Jarosławiec so vacations in the mountains isn’t one of things you do often. In fact, this will be the first time in your life you ever have done it. You never have really felt the need before. You were born by a sea and its sweet call wakes you up every morning. You listen to a lot of music and it’s still the sweetest song you were lucky enough to hear.

You never saw a mountain but you still heard of them, of course. Your parents meet on one, actually. It was Łysa Góra. People say that witches still visit it. They also say that every time they do, all of the devils are running away from hell, just to dance with them. They always bring the wildest of storms with them and the thunder serves them as a drum but nothing can conceal all of the screaming that’s going on there. The whole country shakes with their laughter. Sometimes you look into your mother’s eyes and you can see it. It’s clear as a day, although nothing is clear about that smile she sends you. It’s wicked, a little crooked on the left side and the opposite of what Madam Krzewska would call a “ladylike behaviour” but then again, you were always your mother’s daughter and nothing about you was ladylike either. You kind of just try to not think about it very hard. There are times when you even manage to succeed in that field. 

It was your dear Kasiunia that made you change your mind. It was only two years ago, when everyone still called her just panna Karusia and not pani Katarzyna. For you she always will be Kaśka, though. That little girl next door who never failed to cause mayhem, anyone’s first choice as a partner in crime but the most importantly, your best friend. 

It was only two years ago when she disappeared for three months without as much as a word where she went. She travelled south. She went so far that she even almost left her motherland like it’s not a big thing. It probably wasn’t. Not for her. When she came back, she told you everything about her adventures. She fell in love with the mountains and she fell in love with a one person that lived there. You asked why she came back then. She laughed earnestly, like she always did with you. She said that maybe she buried her heart to the mountains but it’s the sea that has her soul.

You, like the whole village, never saw the person she told everyone about, however she talked about them so much you sometimes feel like you are close friends. 

It was whole two years ago and you still can’t forget about it. You often wonder if it isn’t your best friend’s heart that’s calling you there. You often wonder if you don’t want to leave your own heart in the mountains too. You often wonder where exactly it would be. Maybe just at the foothills, as a tribute to Giewont so he won’t forget to wake up when the time comes. Maybe at the top, to serve as a better lure for the future visitors. You wonder a lot, these times. 

The song of the sea is still a persistent stream of gentle hums in your ears and you can be sure that its claws are forever drowned in your soul. There’s nothing more freeing than a sea but you also know you never will be completely free of it. It’s a funny thing, how this all works.

It’s true. You know it is. But sometimes, you can feel it. A call from a place you never went to. And each time it happens, you can only ask yourself if it is possible that some sirens left the Baltic Sea. What made them do that. Is it regret that fills their voices with magic? You want to ask them but you know what that would mean. You don’t think you’re ready yet. Will you ever be? Does that even change anything?

You are bound to the sea but that’s not the only thing that pulls you by your heart now. Your travel starts at night, with lightning as an only source of light. It’s crashing and rumbling like never before. And even then. The uproar of thunder is nothing compared to the frantic beat of your own heart. It’s the only thing you can hear at the moment. You can feel your ribs almost breaking with every thump. You know it’s objectively the worst time to go out anywhere but you also know it’s now or never for you. Thrilled doesn’t cover all the range of emotions boiling inside you. You  ~~ hope ~~ know it’s the best decision of your life. 

A long time has already passed before you stopped running. It was amazing at the time, not so much now, when your legs hurt and lungs beg you desperately for air. You know no direction besides the South but that will have to be enough. You hear the sirens screaming what patch to take and you don’t see any reason to question it. They are the best guide you could ever dream of anyway.

The second-best guide is apparently a rather strange, young looking man you stumbled upon on a road, just a few hours later. It’s still raining. You are sure you could find a whole ocean in your boots but it’s quite the opposite of what you are looking for now, isn’t it? Maybe the sky was swallowed by the heavy clouds. One second you looked up to check your hypothesis and the other he was standing next to you. You were able to stop yourself from jumping away. Or, more accurately, your, stuck in the mud, boots made you unable to do so. Normally you thank the Lord in your head for every small blessing but you have a feeling that the man next to you would not appreciate the sentiment. 

He looks at you. No, that isn’t true. He looks in your direction but his eyes slide off you like you weren’t even there. You turn around but there’s nothing behind you. When you turn back his eyes are sharper than butcher’s knives. You make a decision to let your eyes wander off him until it’s no longer possible but it’s like trying to open them underwater. 

He smiles. Wide. Wider than anyone should be able to do. You think you can see another row of teeth, hidden behind the first one for a second but it has to be just a trick of the light. You think of the sharks and how they look for their prey by the smell of blood. You feel like one right now. You look him in the eyes again and you think you might be right. 

“The best of greetings, my friend. What beautiful weather, I haven't seen such a nice storm for what feels like a hundred years.” He laughed chucked loudly, although still somewhat fake. Like he was trying to recall an almost forgotten memory of someone else doing that. You don’t want to be cruel. And yet you think to yourself. Perhaps some things were never meant to know laughter. That seems like a sad thought to have but you’re too wary of him to let any compassion anywhere near you.

“Oh my, I think I forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me, I can’t believe. Please don’t let my lack of manners cut out talk so short.”

You don’t want to answer him so you don’t. It most probably isn’t wise but what was wise about your little adventure so far? Even if you really want to point out that he still didn’t reveal his identity. Maybe it’s because he is aware that you’re already suspicious of him. You wouldn’t oppose to him truly just being so forgetful, however your luck rarely works that way. The lack of any response doesn’t discourage him in a bit. 

“I think you’re running a little late now.” This laugh again, equally broken in its nature as the first one. It would be truly pitiful in any other circumstance. The thought that someone could have seen you running, completely lost in the mayhem around you, hasn't crossed your mind before. “The best part already passed. There’s no point in trying to join now.”

You’re too busy ignoring him to ask what exactly he is talking about. You’re still trying to free yourself of mud prison when you can hear, clear as a day, all the stories about thunder and dancing devils. As you finally take your first step you have this incredibly stupid urge to ask him if he knows your mother. There’s no need to know that. You aren’t sure if you want to have an answer to that either. Some things are better left unvoiced.

“Ah, but could be in the wrong, could I not? Yes, I very well may be. A lady like you can have more on her mind than just silly parties and having fun. My bad, my bad for assuming indeed. If you care enough to entertain this travel companion, I can give you a little help with choosing the best way to get to your destination. Only thing you have to do is say where it is.”

You wait for him to say the price however, for the first time since he appeared from thin air, he falls silent. Waiting for you to agree. You may be from a small village but you’re not naïve. This is why, despite how curious he made you, you still refrain from speaking.

“Ah, you must be thinking what place do I have in mind then. No need to worry about that, my dear fellow traveller. My path leads me to Hell, but nothing immediate is calling me there. Such a wonderful cave, almost as beautiful as easy to get lost in. You know what they say, if you walk around there long enough, you will find yourself trapped there for the rest of eternity.” His eyes are sparkling with joy as he is telling you all of this. You can only guess what this excitement is about and you have a feeling there’s no need to clarify anything further. “Would you like to go there too? Few people know this place as much as I do.

You think to yourself. Yes, there really is a cave bearing this name. A name with a good reason behind it. You glare at the thing on your left, conveying all of your apprehension to this idea while hiding the fear of him deep in your heart.

Thankfully, he understands you without the need for any words. He tries to laugh for the third time and the awkwardness of this kind of suits his apologetic face.

“That was just a small jest, nothing less, nothing more. No need to take it so seriously.” He takes off his hat to bow in apology. For a moment you see his curly hair and you can swear there are horns hidden in there. After that, he immediately is back to trying to make a conversation with you, like nothing happened. Then again, nothing really did so maybe he is not wrong to do that. It still doesn’t sit right with you, just as the rest of his company.

“No need to waste this amount of words on my ears, in a moment I might start drowning in a stream of them.

”Silence.You start to feel bad for him.

He was rather nice to you so far and even apologised.

….

You’re going to regret that. Maybe even forever. Hell is built on good intentions; you are aware of that. And yet. You can’t stop yourself from replying to him.

“Actually, I’m heading out to the mountains.” You sound very sure of yourself what should surprise no one as you are very sure of that fact. What ruins your confidence is the next question. Talking to a devil is hard work, after all.

“The mountains, you say? And which mountains that would be?” On the first glance, it seems like a sincere question. There is a wild possibility that it is one. Perhaps it was not supposed to be a trap. You still feel like you just walked into one.

“Ah, you know. The mountains. In the South.”

“The mountains in the South, you say?” He is amused, that, in opposition to your plans, is clear as day. You don’t enjoy that fact as much as he does. Regret of saying anything to him came quicker that you expected. You want to make him understand the situation, however all the words you have still aren’t enough. No language could properly describe what exactly made you to start this journey in the way it began. “I know many of those, in fact, each mountain I ever had a pleasure of meeting is fitting those criteria of yours.

“I’m not very picky.” That's one of ways to put your absolute ignorance on the topic. You will know that this is the place you were looking for the second you find. Of that you can be sure. The roles seem to be reserved now, when he knows you’re listening to him. Instead of going on another monologue or asking a different set of questions, he quickly retorts “Not very picky, huh?” and starts searching for something in his bag. It isn’t anything you could call big or spacious so you don’t understand how he manages to fit his entire arm into it. It makes sense that he doesn’t make sense, you guess. 

Both of you’re walking together now, you lost in your thoughts, him more and more lost in his bag. A whole quarter of an hour goes by before you can hear his triumphant scream. You look at what he is waving frantically above his head. You don’t know what you expect. Not an old, visibly worn out fiddle. Half of the strings look like they are about to snap at any second and there are visible scratches all over the instrument. 

“Worry not, dear companion of mine. Our goals can often hide from us, some even would say-buried just under our feet. Nevertheless that only means one thing; we have to search for them. And remember, if something was hidden then it means it is possible to find it.” He says it like a joke but the punchline is lost on you. Once again, the fear of what he is planning for you creeps to your mind.

He takes no care in explaining himself and begins to play on his fiddle. It’s surprisingly good and you find yourself enjoying listening to it. The music starts fast and the tempo doesn’t stop growing from there. You can feel your heartbeat trying to match it but soon it’s no longer possible. Its rapid speed makes your head dizzy. The rest of you just wants to dance. The whole world keeps spinning and you want to join in. The view before your eyes shifts so quickly it becomes nothing but a sloppy stroke of a painter’s brush. You try to move. The world stops. Everything turns black. 

When you wake up, you are alone. You also are in a completely different place than before. The sensation of it all reminds you of your last party at  _ remiza  _ in the worst possible way. Your hangover was greater than the Great China Wall at the time. You sweared off any alcohol until next Saturday at least, didn’t stop you at all from tasking newly made nalewka from your grandma on the next day. Definitely worth any price. However, right now you are nowhere near remiza or, if we really are getting into details, any place you ever had a chance to visit. That should concern you. A lot. It would, if not one little fact. 

There is a mountain, right in front of you. 

You blink. Yep, still there. Incredibly steady looking. Not a hallucination. You can’t believe it’s not a dream. Nothing ever felt more real than this. You can feel the force pulling you there stronger than ever before. You’re just steps away from your final destination. You want to run once more. You do. Adrenaline and the siren song pulses in your heart, soon replacing all of the blood in your veins. You are almost there.

Your euphoria lasts about less than five seconds. You try to run, however you immediately bump into something. It’s a stall, full of souvenirs. There are so many of them but all of them look like the same, cheaply manufactured product, made only for a quick profit on the tourists. You don’t like it. You see these kinds of things everyday in summer at your home already. You grief that you are forced to see with your own eyes the end of Jarosławiec as just this simple, small fishing village. You witness more and more small shops with more and more tourist attractions that only bring more and more tourists and that means more and more shops with more and more tourist attractions and that only bring more and-…. You hate it. You hate that the same thing had to happen there too. 

Your gaze lands on a stall owner. She doesn’t look phased at you accidentally knocking off a few items from the counter at all. She barely glanced at the mess around before sighting deeply and getting back to doing nothing in particular. Just a bored angel, waiting for this day. That is, until she saw you.

Her eyes spark, instantly recognising you as a potential client. Her previously sloughed figure straightens and she fixes her two braids so they are symmetrical. Her smile is of a hunter, getting ready to catch their prey and you can’t help but let yourself be hypnotised by it. If you thought talking with a devil is tricky, you don’t have a word to describe the danger of observing the way her cherry lips move. You’re already falling and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“And what a pretty thing you are, I think I have something here, just perfect for you.” She winks at you, because for her it’s just a game. You smile at her, because for you it’s not. Neither of you care about that, although you really should. Your heart can be torn only into so many pieces. Like always, you ignore all the warning signs. 

You can’t stop looking at her. So pleased with herself, having a full understanding of what she’s doing to you. What little it takes, to play with your feelings. It’s hard to concentrace for you in that state. No matter what she wants to present for you now, you will most probably buy it. if only to have a reminder of this encounter. Yes, definitely more dangerous than that Mefisto you saw on your way.

She laughs lighty and searches for the said item. It could have been your chance to escape but it was too late for that the moment you noticed each other. 

Your head is sitting in clouds at the moment and yet to manage to recall something you heard about mountaineers, a long time ago. They are famous for their golden hearts but maybe that's why gold it's the only thing their hearts know so well. You can see it now. You wish you didn’t. It would give you a place for hope, where there is none. She’s back again, with the price of your meeting sitting on her tongue. You wait for her to say it, like a sinner waiting for their shift, after confessing their crimes. 

She presents you a red bead necklace, undisguisable from the one on her neck. You were never a big fan of jewelry, however you will make an exception for this. You reach into your pockets, praying to have enough money. You do so, maybe your luck isn’t as bad as you thought. Or maybe it always was supposed to be a part of this journey. It’s a very naive thought, nonetheless it makes you happy. The way she puts your new purchase feels like a signal to go. You don’t turn back to see if she already forgot about you, even if that thought crosses your mind more than just a one time. 

While you’re walking through the city to get to the mountain, you learn its name. Zakopane. Our goals really can be buried then, good joke Mister Devil. However, if he thinks you will stop now, he is severely mistaken. You will not rest until you find the source of the song that has been haunting for such a long time. 

Hours passed and, despites how exhausted you are, how your legs beg you for a break, you’re still going. You have to, the end is just behind the corner, you can feel it in your bones. The sky is pitch black, not even a fraction of the moon or a single start to show you the way. That doesn’t stop you either. You hear a siren song, it’s deeply ingrained in your soul by now, the only thing you need to show you the direction. You hear it loud and clear, it’s leading your feet so you won’t make any wrong move. You hear it loud and clear, someone is singing it. Not in your head, not in your soul, not even in your heart. Someone is singing it here. Out in the open. You turn right for the last time. And then, you see it.

The Eye of The Sea, hidden between the mountains. There are sirens too, laying on the shore, ready to welcome you with open arms. You join in on their song. Your song. You found your way home- you can rest at last. 


End file.
